Her face goes red; her grip tightens. The Great Ring feels so close to us.
It’s like I could just lean forward and kiss her. I blink my eyes shut to push out the world and onlookers who would tell me I shouldn’t. They don’t know what the Ring wants! If the Ring didn’t want this, then we wouldn’t be so close. It chose me to be happy, and it knew how best to do it.
I blink them back open to stare at her lips—Oh shit. “Piero’s entering.”
She frantically turns back, watching the somewhat fumbling—definitely high—Piero enter with his boyfriend.
“Should we run?” I whisper.
Wordlessly, she grabs me and improperly takes us over the boundary rope and back onto the path, swerving around a tent to put an obstacle between us and Piero.
“Where should we hide?”
“Shut up. I’ll take you somewhere you like.” Her tone is strong, authoritative.
It’s not something I can bring myself to speak against.
She takes me to the outer ring of streets, but doesn’t enter us into any café or restaurant that’s open. Instead, she drags me into the alleyway that’s clearest of people.
“Where are we going?”
She pushes me into the wall, standing above me and staring down with unreadable intent. She lifts the edge of my chin, her hot breath tickling my lips. They just beg for her to… Her pink eyes are looking at them too. She’s staring at my lips. There’s circles and circles of thoughts which—She kisses me.
She’s not soft. She’s not slow. She wants me. She takes me. She makes my mouth hers.
I moan on the entrance of her tongue. It’s unbelievable.
But I’m feeling it. Her chest pressing into mine. Her hands gripping my waist. Great Ring, it’s everything I wanted!
She pulls back and covers every corner of my lips in kisses. “I know why you want to be so close.” She bites my earlobe.
I yelp.
“You drive me crazy.” Her hand grips my thigh, causing me to squirm. “You were never subtle.”
I stare up at her, awestruck. “What are you going to do to me?”
She kisses at my neck. “It would’ve been easier if you just told me what you wanted in your letter, but I can guess.”
“You read it?”
“Every last bumbling compliment.” She bites hard enough to leave a mark, licking my wound before finding a new place to bite me. Another on my neck, then on my cheek, and then my bottom lip. Everywhere her teeth can find my soft skin.
I look to my side and see large groups of people still enjoying the festival. The thought of any one of them seeing me like this, seeing me with her wounds on me, gets me giddy.
She drapes an arm behind my back and—in a voice that’s no less dominating—asks, “is this actually what you want? I’m tired of your conservative flirting. Does your smile mean you wantme?”
“It does.”
She drags me back through the street, unrelenting and embarrassing me with more public affection.
“People can see,” I whine.
“Isn’t that just what you want?” She lifts me off the ground and into her arms. “You don’t get to pretend that you don’t want this after asking me for a dance.”
I sigh and relinquish my lips to being hers. I need to experience all of this before I’m rudely brought back to a reality where this moment is impossible.
Yet, it keeps going. She briefly takes us back up the hill to reclaim blankets that she wraps around me, then escorts me down the streets to her car. Her chest is warm enough to cuddle into and… am I allowed to start thinking about her breasts? They’re… nice. Certainly, they’re more present than mine.
